


Alive Again

by lakeghost



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Pushing Daisies, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Accidental Vampirism, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Pushing Daisies Fusion, Angst, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Comes Back Wrong, Comfort/Angst, Dramatic Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Gen, I've always wanted to use that tag, Light Angst, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Necromancy, Oblivious Simon Snow, One Shot, Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow Friendship, Penelope Bunce is a Good Friend, Post-Watford (Simon Snow), Pushing Daisies AU, Slow Burn, Stress Baking, a bit of a coffee shop au flavor, and loves his vampire bf, simon bakes pies and wakes the dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:40:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25535983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lakeghost/pseuds/lakeghost
Summary: First touch, life.Second touch, dead again, forever.[Simon Snow Pushing Daisies AU]
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	Alive Again

**Author's Note:**

> For those unfamiliar with Pushing Daisies: Piemaker learns childhood crush mysteriously died and accidentally-on-purpose brings them back. And then they solve mysteries and stuff. The catch: if they ever touch, the brought-back crush instantly dies.  
> In this fic, I speculate that after defeating some Humdrum-esque villain, Simon is demagicked, save for this weird new necromantic side effect. He brings Baz back, but he’s never kept someone alive again for more than a minute or so. Turns out, “alive again” may have more caveats than either of them know…

At the sound of the bell on the door, Simon looked up from the dough and dusted his hands on his apron. He turned to see Penny enter the shop, shaking rain out of her hair.

“Hey Pen!” He approached the window between the kitchen and the dining room and observed the look of intensity in her eyes. His face dropped. “What’s happening?”

Penny noticed his expression and recalibrated. “Hi, Simon. Nothing’s happening. Well, something is, but nothing to worry about.”

“Considering you consult for homicide, that seems like bad news.” Simon leaned onto his elbows in the window, sandwiched between the cakes and pies on display.

Penny shook her head again as she took a seat on one of the stools at the counter. “I was meeting with Agatha, and she had me take a look at a few John Does they thought might have a magical COD.”

“Penny, you already work too much. You don’t need to be doing the coroner favors on the side.”

Penny rolled her eyes. “Do you know how much private consultations cost? Besides, she’d already checked the box, I was just a second opinion. She knows I’ve been on a few related cases and thought there might be some throughlines.”

Simon grumbled and checked the time. It was late in the day, and customers had been sparse since noon. The disagreeable weather wasn’t helping. He frowned.

“Simon?” Penny waved her hand to regain his attention. “What I was trying to get to, the whole reason I slogged over here, is because I saw _Baz_.” She looked at Simon with expectant eyes.

Simon wrinkled his forehead. “At the morgue?” He was having a difficult time computing the new information. He hadn’t heard Baz’s name since, well, since he’d left Watford, despite how much space he took up in his life. As it turned out, Simon was very good at disappearing. Other than Penny, he doubted any other mages knew what he was up to these days, if they thought he was alive at all.

Without breaking her gaze, Penny nodded. She seemed to sense they were suddenly surrounded by eggshells.

“How - why here?” Simon didn’t understand why he felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

“I know about as much as you do. And if I knew more, I still respect the privacy of the deceased, and more pertinently, Agatha’s job, more than to tell you anything else.” She smiled apologetically.

Simon was nodding. “It’s sort of unbelievable.”

“I thought so too. It seemed so … pedestrian. I guess I assumed he would end in a blaze of glory, fighting some terrible beast, or trying to kill you.” Penny toyed with a cup of straws on the counter.

“I don’t disagree.” Simon sighed. He was suddenly acutely aware of how much time had passed since his ordeal. Since he’d un-become the Chosen One. He’d fought the fight, and now the world kept turning. His friends got jobs. His nemesis died in a freak accident, apparently. He owned a bakery. “I feel like I should do something.” The rain had started to pull back, no longer pelting itself at the windows, just sliding down the glass.

“I mean, I’m sure his family is holding a funeral.”

Simon snorted. “Even if we hadn’t not talked for years, I doubt his family would want me around. They’d bite my head off.”

Penny shrugged. “You could try to set up a private viewing. Agatha told me where they’re taking him next, I’m sure we could make a few calls.”

Simon shook his head and stepped back to the workbench.

“Honestly Simon, I think it would be healthy for you. Maybe tie up some loose ends.”

With a laugh, Simon finished settling the crust into the tin. “That would be a lot of tying.”

Penny huffed. She watched Simon move on to the filling, starting with the tray of terrible looking strawberries he retrieved from the storeroom. He began pulling them one at a time with his ungloved hand. By the time each fruit was on the cutting board, it was a glimmering, wet red, perfectly ripe and firm. Penny had seen it a thousand times, but it still took her breath away. She pondered in silence while Simon continued to bring strawberries back to fresh, beautiful, life before slicing them into a large bowl.

“Your customers are spoiled. You know that right?”

Simon shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. He was sure Penny could see the smile crawling onto his face. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Penny sighed dramatically. “Maybe you’ll never know the joys of reanimated fruit, but you’ve tasted the other bits - you’re damn good at this.” Simon raised his eyebrows slightly and continued chopping strawberries. Penny rolled her eyes. “I’ve been working with Normals too long and it’s starting to rub off on me. I am a _secret_ magickal consultant, after all.”

Simon smiled and Penny checked her phone.

“Speaking off - duty calls.” She stood and looked out the windows. “Ugh. It had better not get worse tonight.” After a pause, she went on. “I just want you to consider it, okay? You can keep the drawer shut or lid closed or whatever. It would be good for you.”

Simon finally looked away from his task again, meeting Penny’s stare.

“I’ll consider it.”

***

Simon took a deep breath. He just wanted to pay his respects. After all they’d gone through, he had to say goodbye, even if they hadn’t spoken in years. He was thankful the funeral director was a mage, and knew of Simon. It’s possible she thought her establishment would be overrun with dark creatures if she said no - they tended to closely follow the Chosen One, back when he was Chosen - and was willing to bend the rules.

“The viewing is tomorrow, so he’s in the side room right now, on ice.” Katie pointed down the hall from where she was sitting at her desk. From her seat, it looked like she was being swarmed with stacks of paper and stickie notes.

Simon resisted the urge to shake the rain out of his hair like a dog and brushed his hand through his curls instead. “Thank you, so much, I know -”

“It’s fine,” blurted the mortician. “It’s important, I’m sure. Just be fast, okay?” Katie narrowed her eyes.

Simon nodded urgently. Penny was still idling in the parking lot. “It’ll be like I was never here.”

  


Now, standing outside the door, Simon wished he wasn’t here. This was definitely illegal, in some capacity. What if Penny got in trouble? Or Agatha? Lingering here wasn’t going to help, in any case.

Simon pushed open the door and flicked on the light. The only things in the room were the fleet of folding chairs and a slick black casket that probably cost as much as a car. _Typical_. Simon knew it was stupid, but the scene felt eerie. Even in the sterile fluorescent light, surrounded by grey-flecked carpet tile, his skin felt itchy. The rain rumbled against the walls as Simon approached.

Standing beside the casket, he took another deep breath. Simon realized he hadn’t even considered what Baz would look like. Would he look dead? What if whatever was in this box covered up all those memories of Baz snarling and scowling at him at Watford? Would he forget the way his stomach would drop when those grey eyes were trained on him? The way he smelled after showering in the morning? Simon shook his head sharply. _Not the time_.

His fingers fumbled with the latch. To his credit, he didn’t have any prior experience opening caskets, so it would be ridiculous to expect perfection.

“Come _on_ ,” he mumbled.

Thunder snapped outside and Simon startled, jerking his elbow and hopping back when it banged into the hardwood.

It happened quickly, after that. He caught his shoelace on the chair behind him, overcorrected his balance, and lobbed his body weight into the casket, upsetting it from its supports. He reached out to steady it, but it was too late. Simon and the body both tumbled to the floor, and Simon’s hand landed squarely on the body’s forehead.

On _Baz’s_ forehead.

Simon rolled away like he was burned, scrambling to his feet and backing toward the far wall.

The figure on the floor blinked, and slowly sat up, before inspecting himself.

“What, in the name of magic, is this suit?” Baz mumbled to himself. He twisted his sleeve to get a better look, and saw Simon over his elbow. His arm dropped, and a familiar sneer twisted his face. “ _Snow_.”

Simon couldn’t blink. He felt paralyzed. He hadn’t meant to. He really hadn’t. But he couldn’t ... not now…

He took a step back.

Baz seemed to interpret this as the result of his fearsomeness and grinned.

“I have to admit, this is quite elaborate. I’m impressed.” Baz stood and dusted himself off. Simon gripped at his hair and slowly shook his head.

“It was an accident…”

Baz crossed his arms, but thankfully, stayed on the other side of the room. Simon wasn’t sure he was ready to make a decision just yet. Thunder cracked outside. Baz raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“I didn’t mean to knock over your coffin. I mean it. This is all a huge mistake.” Simon inhaled, readying himself to continue.

“Casket.”

Simon stopped short. “What?”

“It’s a casket.” Baz pointed to the thing at his feet. “Four sides, not six.”

“Christ, you’re morbid.” Simon's train of thought was fully derailed. Baz was standing in front of him. _Alive_.

Baz threw his arms in the air. “I’m not the one who locked me in afuckingcasket, Snow! What were you thinking!?” He started to march toward Simon, who abruptly stepped back.

“Hold on!” Baz froze. Simon thought he expected the words to come out with magic. Simon half expected them to. “Just … hold on, okay? I didn’t lock you in a casket.”

Baz raised both eyebrows this time. From outside, Simon could hear Penny laying on the horn. Katie would be knocking on the door any second.

“I think - what’s the last thing you remember?”

Baz considered this a moment. “I was - I _am_ \- on holiday. The terrible country house in Piffling. I was on the lake …” He drew his eyebrows together. “Something pulled me under. I didn’t have time to grab my wand, I didn’t even see what it was.” Baz frowned at Simon.

Simon nodded. “Okay. Okay.” _Not okay._ “Someone left a note under my door, saying you would be here. People know we knew each other, right?”

“You spent your entire youth proclaiming me your nemesis before exploding the greatest threat magic has ever seen in a prophesied fireball. I’m surprised I don’t get phone calls asking after you,” snapped Baz. Simon breathed a sigh of relief.

“You did try to kill me.”

“It was an accident!”

“Point is, I followed up on the tip, and good thing I did.” Simon crossed his arms.

“Are you expecting me to thank you?”

Before Simon could reply, Penny honked again. Simon covered his face.

“Is that Bunce?”

“I don’t have a license.” Simon scanned the room and began setting up the chairs he’d knocked over.

Baz rolled his eyes and moved toward the casket. As he set up the stand he spoke, “Well, my address hasn’t changed. If you drop me off tonight I’ll disappear and promise not to be a bother again.” He grabbed one end of the casket. “Give me a hand here.”

Simon wasn’t sure what to say. He was sure that he wasn’t getting anywhere near Baz’s hands.

“Crowley, I don’t want to be here any more than you, Snow, but some help would be appreciated.” As if to make a point, Baz hefted the casket up from the center, remarkably, easily settling it onto the risers. Baz seemed surprised himself. He confusion morphed to a scowl. “Or not.”

“You can’t go home,” rushed Simon. The words tumbled out of his mouth. “Just … let’s talk to Penny first. You can clean up back at my place.”

Baz looked like he wanted to protest, but couldn’t think of a decent line.

The car horn blared from outside.

  


Penny rolled down the window and nearly drove off right then at the sight of two dripping faces peering in from the dark.

“Penny, I can explain.”

“Sweet Morgana you will.” She craned her neck to look at Baz. “Good evening, Basilton.”

“Bunce,” he said through bared teeth. The rain had pasted his hair to his forehead and he was shivering. 

Penny turned back to Simon. “Front seat, with me.”

Most of the drive to Simon’s flat was spent exchanging significant looks with Penny, and alternately looking back at the disheveled Baz pouting in the backseat.

“I had to,” whispered Simon. It was barely audible over the rain. Penny kept her eyes on the road.

“I can hear you, you know.” Baz was leaned back and square-shouldered, doing everything he could to communicate how unbothered he was.

“Then cover your ears,” said Penny. She tilted her head to Simon. “We can talk later. We _will_ talk later.”

Simon nodded and twisted his hands in his lap. He was thankful Baz was at his back. He could almost pretend he wasn’t there, that he hadn’t just made a huge mistake.

They pulled into the side-alley not long after. Penny killed the engine and looked earnestly at Simon.

“Whatever happens, I’m with you, okay? We’ll figure this out.” She set her hands on his shoulders.

“Always have.”

Penny smiled. “Good man.” She twisted around in her seat. “Ride’s over, Basil. Who knows when I’ll see you again, but you should know that I consult on homicide cases, so any funny business and I’ll know exactly who to look for.”

Baz waved her off and got out of the car. “Thanks for the ride.”

  


He followed Simon a few steps behind as they rounded the building.

“ _Sconehenge_?” The letters glowed a soft red in the downpour. More rain bounced off the striped canopy that overhung the main entrance. Simon dug through his pockets for his keys.

He shrugged. “Penny thought it was cute.” Simon kept his eyes trained on his hands as he unlocked the door to the dark building. He realized he was still shaking slightly.

“I thought you said we were going to your flat?” Baz stayed standing outside after Simon opened the wide glass door. “Do you live in a bakery?”

“I live above a bakery. That I own, thank you for asking. What have you accomplished since leaving school?”

Baz scoffed and entered the building. “The one you nearly blew up? I’ve been busy getting an education, becoming an even more skilled mage, self-actualizing and the like.”

“Fuck off,” growled Simon. He watched Baz walk deeper into the dark shop, somehow avoiding the stacked chairs and heading directly to the narrow door in the back wall.

***

It only took a few weeks of living together to fall back into back habits - now without the roommate’s anathema as a safeguard. Baz was restless without a clear plan, other than figuring out who had him kidnapped.

Simon and Penny convinced him it would be best to remain hidden until they sorted out what the threat was. The Gobbler might still have power, or control elements that wished Baz harm. It would be safer if he stayed away from his family. Additionally, they’d just buried a casket full of sand and Simon wasn’t ready to answer the questions that would surely arise when their dead son appeared on the doorstep. Baz didn’t know that last bit, not yet.

Baz would shout at Simon from the couch whenever he came into the kitchen in the morning. At the slightest knocking of pans and dishes, he’d fling a throw pillow in Simon’s direction and hurl insults.

“I’m making eggs. Do you want any?” Simon kicked the pillow toward the living room, on one occasion.

“I’m not hungry. Just be quiet.” Simon could just see the tangle of hair on the arm of the loveseat as he rolled away. His legs must be curled into his chest - typically they flopped over the opposite arm.

“Maybe you’d be in a better mood if you ate something.” Simon kept his voice light as he went about preparing breakfast. Simon usually got up around nine on Sunday - the shop didn’t open until the afternoon - but this was much later than Baz ever slept when they were back at school. Sometimes when Simon dropped back in the apartment during lunch, Baz would still be asleep. Of course he was concerned, but how the hell was Simon supposed to tell _him_ that? It wasn’t like he could just put a hand on his shoulder.

Half their interactions were Simon making some noise Baz deemed irritating, or being too nosy, or too disinterested - generally _existing,_ and Baz snarling at him from the couch. If he was particularly energetic, getting up and threatening violence. Which Simon did his best to avoid, swerving out of the way of pointed fingers and shoves, sending Baz further into a tizzy.

Simon didn’t know precisely what it was that had started today’s confrontation, but soon after Simon returned from work, the air was crackling with intensity. They were barely two feet apart, as much space as Simon could manage, but Baz had backed him into the door. Simon shouted, hoping Baz would back off, save himself, but of course it only made things worse.

Baz took a half-step back, and Simon watched him tense as he began to raise his hand.

“Dead again!”

Baz’s fist froze. “What?” His voice was still a snarl, despite the confusion in his eyes.

Simon swallowed and looked down. “You can’t touch me.”

Baz growled. “I’ve told you before, I don’t care about your ‘chosen one’ bullshit!”

“This isn’t -” Simon made an incoherent noise of frustration. “I didn’t mean - this isn’t about that,” he said. He took a deep breath. “You died.”

“Evidence would point to the contrary,” spoke Baz through gritted teeth.

Simon nodded. “You died. And I brought you back,” he mumbled.

Baz raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “I thought you lost your magic after you killed the Gobbler. Or was that a lie to get us mere mortals to leave you alone?”

Simon’s pulse thudded in his ears. His fear and guilt were quickly bleeding into anger. He tried to focus on breathing.

“Is this really all it takes to get a rise out of you? Welcome back to reality, Snow. Sometimes there are consequences when you trample through life. Sometimes you lose. Sometimes it comes back to bite you.”

Simon raised his eyes level with Baz. “Did you hear what I said?”

Baz narrowed his eyes, either unwilling to admit his confusion or genuinely too irritated to speak.

“Whatever attacked you did more than lock you in a casket. It killed you. Lights out. Bucket kicked.” Simon’s voice began to get louder and he cut himself off.

“And?” What had clearly been meant as a nonchalant jab carried a waver of tension.

“And I brought you back. Turns out I didn’t lose all my magic after all.” Simon grimaced a bitter smile.

Baz was silent. He started to open his mouth, then frowned. “I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

Simon shrugged. “Well, big surprise, I’m a bit of a special case. Penny thinks it was a side effect of the Gobbler. Something about energy exchange.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised Bunce is in this scheme.”

“There’s no ‘scheme’, Baz. I fucked up. Nothing new there.” Simon kept his voice low.

“How-”

“If I touch something dead, it comes back to life. That simple. I tripped on my stupid goddamn shoelaces and knocked your coffin over. And - and I knew it was wrong, I knew it, but once you were there _alive_ in front of me, I couldn’t just - I couldn’t _kill_ you. God! It was selfish, and stupid, but I didn’t want to hurt anybody else.” Simon gasped for breath. He felt tears threaten to gather in his eyes.

“Simon, I … I don’t know what to say,” whispered Baz.

Simon shrugged again. “If I touch you again, you go back to being dead. Forever. I guess I thought we’d have a little more time before we were at each other’s throats so I could come up with a better explanation. It’s too late now.” He picked up his stare to look at Baz.

The pale man was incredibly still, like he was made of glass. He cleared his throat. “So, what happens now?”

“What do you mean?” said Simon.

“With me?”

“What? Like am I going to zap you back to being dead?” Just saying it out loud made Simon feel nauseous.

“Well, I wasn’t worried about that until now. More of, do I have an expiration date? When does it wear off?” His voice was strained.

Simon shook his head as gently as he could manage. “It’s not a spell. I mean, I don’t know what it is, really, even though it’s magic. But it feels different then I remember my magic feeling, before.”

Baz lowered himself into one of the low living room chairs, awkwardly folding his legs to the side. “Odd.”

Simon surprised both of them with an abrupt laugh. “Sorry,” he mumbled. From where he was still standing with his back to the wall, he looked at Baz. “I wish I had more for you.”

Baz offered half a smile. “So do I. But it explains why I’ve been having trouble casting. I’d assume it’s why everything smells weird now, too.”

Simon wrinkled his forehead. “Smells funny how?”

“I don’t know, off.” As if to emphasize his point, he sniffed and pulled an expression of disgust. “Did you burn something in here? It’s awful.”

Simon walked over to the loveseat opposite the occupied chair and sat. “Could be the neighbors.”

Baz shook his head. “This feels invasive, but you did reanimate me, so I think we’ve crossed most boundaries at this point.” He shifted his weight. “But have you done this before?”

“On a person? I mean, technically yes. I’ve helped Penny with cases a couple times, just a few seconds if there was something really crucial they needed to know.” Simon was chewing on his lip. “Felt awful. She hasn’t asked me in a while though.”

“So anyone? One touch?” Baz eyed Simon warily. Seeing as the bare skin of his arms was functionally a lethal weapon, it was fair.

“Anything dead. Plants, animals.”

“Crowley, Snow,” Baz breathed. He pulled his legs up and folded them under his body. “That’s -” he shook his head, “it’s impossible.”

Simon shrugged.

Baz pulled his eyebrows together. “You said this happened after you fought the Gobbler, right? When did you figure it out?”

“Unpleasant hamburger experience.” Simon squeezed his eyes shut.

Baz caught himself laughing and quickly covered his mouth with one hand. Simon opened one eye to glare at him. “Sorry.”

They fell into a silence, and Baz looked to the floor. Simon got up and started to pace.

“You can’t stay here,” stated Simon, plainly.

“That’s ridiculous. Of course I’m staying here.” Simon stopped at the window to look at Baz.

“Baz, if I touch you, even for a second, you’re dead!”

“Good thing we don’t sleep in the same bed then. Which, now that I’m thinking of it: I should get a bed. At least an air mattress. I think this couch has thrown my spine out of alignment.” Baz tracked Simon’s pacing like a cat.

“You can go home now. I’m sure we can come up with some reason why you faked your death, it doesn’t even have to be a good reason. ‘Cause you’re alive. Unless you touch me.”

“We managed not to fall into each other’s arms for nearly eight years, I think we’ll manage.” Baz smirked, like he knew something Simon didn’t. Simon growled. That was the twist, wasn’t it? _Pink elephants_. Now that they couldn’t touch, it was all Simon could think about. Just little things, like touching his shoulder to wake him up, or a hand on his arm when he was upset. It kept building in his head though, all the things he _couldn’t_ do; hold his hand, tuck his hair behind his ear … Simon tried very hard to stop there, but was rarely successful. It didn’t matter anyway. The real concern was keeping Baz from strangling him.

“What if I open the door right as you’re leaving and walk into you?”

“Knock, you neanderthal.”

“What if I trip on the rug and fall onto the couch?”

“Get better rugs.”

“We’ll need a system.”

“It’s okay, Snow, I’m sure Penny will help you figure it out.”

Simon sighed and sat opposite Baz. “This is impossible. _You’re_ impossible. No one’s ever done this before.”

Baz sat up straighter. “All the more reason for me to stay. Things only got bad for Frankenstein when he left his monster. I’m not going to live my unprecedented un-life away from the only person who maybe has some insight on what’s happening. Plus, someone definitely did murder me. It’s safer for everyone if I stay here.”

“You’re not a monster,” said Simon.

“Neither are you.”

***

Simon heard rummaging from down the hall and startled awake. In the years between his ultimate confrontation and settling into life as a nearly-Normal, his nightmares had waned significantly. He still slept like a soldier though, and it didn’t take much to pull him from sleep to a fully alert state.

He checked his phone and verified it was nearly two in the morning. More muffled noise came from what sounded like the kitchen. Simon dug through the nightstand for a maglite, and gripped the cool metal in one hand as he slid from the sheets.

He really didn’t know what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t Baz sitting against the cabinets with a pile of butcher paper by his side. Simon stood up straight and flipped the light switch, startling the man on the floor to curl away.

“Sorry!” hissed Simon. In lieu of a dimmer, he flipped the lights back off. Now that his eyes were no longer adjusted, he was fully blind. He toyed with the flashlight in his hands. “I don’t want to bump into you, so I’m staying on this side of the island, okay?”

There was a pause before Baz replied. “Okay.” His voice sounded tight.

“Why are you awake?” asked Simon. He wasn’t falling asleep any time soon, he might as well be nosy.

“Please leave me alone,” said Baz, quietly. Simon heard rustling as packaging was brushed aside.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed about eating on the floor. I get that it’s not dignified, but you’re human. I’ve definitely eaten my fair share of cold lasagna in the same spot.” He smiled before he remembered Baz couldn’t see him.

“I think something’s wrong,” Baz whispered. Simon felt a jolt of fear run through him.

“Can I turn the light back on?” Simon suddenly felt incredibly defenseless.

“Please don’t.”

Simon gritted his teeth. “Baz, what’s happening?” He could hear the huff of a short sigh from beyond the counter in front of him.

“You said the longest you ever brought someone back was a little over a minute right?”

Simon frowned. “Yeah.”

“And there weren’t any side effects?” His voice was almost pleading.

“Not that I noticed. To be fair, there was a lot of other stuff going on at the time. But they seemed about as normal as could be expected.” Simon heard movement on the floor.

“Maybe I’m just fucked-up then.”

“Well, you’re not the one who brought his former roommate back to life without his permission. Whatever this is about, we’re both guilty.” Simon waited for a response. Baz sighed.

“I really thought that it was just a weird one-off thing. I figured I’d buy a couple steaks, have a nice night in, and I’d get it out of my head.” Baz shoved at the paper around him. “I didn’t even get the pan out.”

Simon considered the number of wrappings he’d seen when the light was on. “When you say a couple…”

“Once you break the seal on the whole ‘eating raw meat thing’ it only gets worse, apparently. I wanted to wait and see if it got better,” he said. His tone was forcefully rational.

“But it didn’t,” Simon sighed. He could make out some vague shapes now, and it looked like Baz was shaking his head.

“I feel so … off. Out of sync? I didn’t mean to drag you into this.”

Simon shook his head and hoped Baz could see. “Maybe your palate’s different now? Everything sort of rebooted, after.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

Simon shifted in his seat. “I’ve never - no one’s ever stayed back.”

“I know,” replied Baz, quietly.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

The only sound in the room with the buzz of the refrigerator.

***

Simon’s breath came out in harsh puffs, clouding the air in front of him. When he’d returned from work, Baz was gone. Not atypical in and of itself, but he’d never left without a note, or a text. Simon felt ridiculous running through the streets, but Baz had left his phone in he apartment, so he didn’t have a better way to find him.

Baz had barely spoken all week. Things had been going so well, too. They’d both come to the conclusion that Baz didn’t need as much food as before. He was alert, and sleeping well, but his appetite hadn’t come back. It seemed like there was more to it, but Simon couldn’t get Baz to open up. He knew the raw meat in the fridge was being eaten, mostly. A few days earlier, Simon found shriveled up steak in the garbage when he went to take it out. At first he thought maybe Baz had been sick, but it had clearly not been chewed.

When he asked Baz about it, he had some hand-wavy explanation about changing his mind after taking it out of the fridge.

Simon swallowed, nervous. “It looked like someone sucked the juice out of it.”

Baz stiffened. He was sitting on the loveseat, facing away, while Simon stood at the kitchen counter. “That’s disgusting.”

“Doesn’t have to be.”

Baz whipped around to snarl at Simon. “What are you accusing me of, Snow? Being a vampire?”

Simon blinked. _What?_ “What?”

Suddenly, Baz got smaller. “Shut up,” he said without much bite. He turned back to the book in his lap.

“Behind you,” stated Simon. He paced to the couch and crossed his arms to keep them in place. “Baz, is this something you’ve been thinking about?”

“I believe I told you to shut up. I realize the ‘go away’ was implied, but honestly Snow. You think you would learn.” Baz was speaking to his book.

Simon stayed quiet. He wanted to say the right thing, but he was probably more confused than Baz at this point. After a few minutes of not turning pages, Baz spoke again.

“Is it even possible? Turned without being bitten?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Simon shrugged. He remembered Baz couldn’t see him and responded verbally. “I don’t know the rules.”

“The vampire rules?”

“The ‘me’ rules. And the vampire rules too, I guess. I’m learning as we go here.”

Baz’s laugh was dry. Simon wished he would turn around. He needed to see his face, but it felt wrong to walk around and get closer. Too intimate.

“Are other things different?”

Baz shook his head. “I don’t know. Yes. Maybe. Does it matter? Whatever is happening is happening, whatever we decide to call it.”

“It would be easier to do stuff about it if we had a vocabulary. Might be able to find, I dunno, help.” Simon knotted his fists in the sides of his t-shirt. His chest kept getting tighter. _Talk to me._

“Can we talk about this tomorrow, Snow? I’m really caught up in trying to solve my murder at the moment.”

“Sure.”

  


That had been the last time they’d spoken properly. They’d passed each other in the hallways - “Left!” “Right!” - and exchanged monosyllabic greetings, but their schedules were already so out of sync, it was easy to go a few days and not talk.

Simon knew Baz liked to go for walks in Heartly Park. It was only a few blocks away from the bakery and it opened into a decent-sized patch of woods. The snow peppered the grass now. Simon was glad he’d thought to grab mittens in his rush - the temperature was rapidly dropping.

It didn’t take long before Simon was aimlessly wandering the trees. He stuck to the trail, but it was pitch-dark and the light on his phone wasn’t doing much. _Stupid_. What the hell did he think was going to happen? Maybe he would turn up in the morning. He probably just forgot to leave a note. Simon continued trampling forward, attempting to navigate toward the start of the path.

“I’m over here.” Baz’s voice was flat and distant.

Simon turned his head. “Baz? I can’t see you.”

A humorless laugh bounced off the trees. Simon saw movement up ahead and turned off the trail, deeper into the trees.

  


Baz continued to wave, and Simon tracked the bright red glove until he broke into the small clearing where Baz was hidden. He let his arm fall. “Hello, Simon.”

There was a deer between them. A dead deer, with an ugly gash in its throat. Baz was hunched at the foot of a tree with his knees pulled up to his chest. He didn’t say anything more as Simon knelt at his side.

“You didn’t leave a note.”

Baz laughed, but it sounded like he was crying. “So you ran through the woods to find me?” His words sounded slushy.

“I didn’t really think about it until I was in the park. Still found you though.” Simon looked at the deer. “Are we going to talk about this?”

“I killed a deer and drank its blood, Simon. I think it’s pretty obvious.”

“How’d you catch a deer?” 

“My sharp wit and aristocratic good looks.”

Simon clenched his fists and felt the material bunch. He slowly set a hand on Baz’s knee. Baz looked up. There was a little more moonlight here, so Simon could make out his features. His face was dirty and his eyes looked scared.

“I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“You said it yourself - I think it’s pretty obvious.”

Baz attempted a tight-lipped smile. His eyes fell to Simon's hand on his knee. Wordlessly, Baz picked it up in his own gloved hand.

“Thank magic for gloves.”

“Thank Penny. I keep losing them, so she gets me a pair every year. Enough to have extras.”

“Smart woman.” Baz sounded distracted. He gripped Simon’s hand tighter. “If I went back home, would I have to be invited in? Now that I’m one of the undead?”

“You’re not undead, Baz.”

“Simon. I was dead. Now I’m not. What the hell do you call that?”

Simon shrugged, then thought a moment. “Alive again. Nobody wants to be un-anything. I sure wouldn’t.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Because the rest of this is perfectly normal.”

Baz rolled his eyes. Simon grinned. By all rights, he should look terrifying right now; his skin had faded to a shocking white, and there was clearly blood residue on his face. His mouth looked fuller - Simon suspected that the deer may have been a tipping point on the fang front. But it was Baz. _Alive_. Annoyed. And holding his hand.

Simon squeezed. Baz squeezed back.

**Author's Note:**

> tbh, if Baz is concerned about Turning Simon w his saliva, they should go the Chuck and Ned route and just kiss through plastic wrap


End file.
